Bottle Me Up
by R.G. Waffles
Summary: The first time he found a gray hair, Sasuke cried. Angst. One-shot.


**Author's Note:** I've wanted to submit this for a while, but I didn't know how anyone would react. So tonight, I thought "Ah, screw it" and submitted it anyway, because I wonder if anyone else realized that Sasuke _isn't_ some twenty-something-year-old adult, but _just, just_ sixteen.

To my old readers: Sorry this isn't a story. I've put down my "all-humor" story in favor of a somewhat serious, rather adventurous, and I-like-it (AU) story that I've been working on. Expect maybe one more one-shot before that's out - definitely before New Year's.

Oh yeah. And my school's been postponed from Sept. 1st to Sept. 26th. Damn it.

* * *

…**:::Bottle Me Up:::…**

"Jeez, how vain can you get?"

Sasuke frowned.

He did his best to ignore Suigetsu and his blatant comment as he turned his head from side to side, examining himself, his bangs brushing lightly against his cheeks as he did so.

"I mean, come on. We haven't even stopped for a few minutes and you're already checking yourself out. In a fucking _river_! Are you _that_ desperate to keep your good looks in check?"

But Sasuke did not retort with a single insult or bite of sarcasm. He was too busy looking at the face reflected back at him from the rippling water of the river. Three of his fingers moved to grip a lock of his obsidian hair and twirl it between them, displaying the strands for his squinted eyes to scrutinize. Suigetsu grumbled something in the background and fading footsteps signaled his exit.

And yet Sasuke remained, kneeling by the banks of the river, his back curved delicately so that he hunched over the water. Something about his reflection irritated him and he couldn't keep his mind from it.

Perhaps, however, it was _just_ his reflection.

How far could he go to trust water?

He carefully lifted himself from the dirt and grass of the banks and stood, brushing the stray soil from his pants. It had only been a reflection, he told himself. A reflection. Just his reflection.

"We're leaving."

Without the slightest bit of regard to his teammates, he brushed past them in silence.

His team had been travelling for days in search of the nearest village. Their supplies were running low, and while Suigetsu's needs had been satisfied with the river, Karin complained endlessly about needing a proper bathroom and rest, and Juugo, despite having remained silent for most of the journey, was slouching in a way that told Sasuke he would collapse any second.

And so Sasuke had given them the promise of a motel. One night. They could rest while he searched the village for supplies, and then the second the sun rose, they would leave. No one complained. The teenaged ninja had been especially ill-tempered recently.

Hours later, a village approaching in the distance, Suigetsu suddenly cocked his head to the side. His eyes squinted, widened, squinted, and then normalized with a new flicker of amusement in their mauve depths.

"Sasuke," he said slowly, as if savoring some sort of joke, "did you know you have a gray hair?"

Silence.

It blanketed the team. Juugo shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing. Karin squeaked in doubt. Suigetsu, his brash boldness overtaking him, reached over and fisted a clump of Sasuke's hair in his hands.

"Right here, see –?"

And suddenly, he was pinned against a wall, a sword to his throat.

Sasuke stood in front of him. His evened breaths blew against the small strands of hair against Suigetsu's forehead, ironically tickling the man. Dark, dark eyes were reflected in the gleam of the sword at his porcelain throat. Daring him.

"Don't. Touch. Me."

With the ominous whisper, Suigetsu was let go. He kept still against the wall, watching Sasuke put his sword away, turn on his heels, and continue in the direction he had been heading. He snorted.

"Someone's sensitive."

Karin swung a feeble punch at his head and brought one hand up to her glasses. "Don't be so stupid," she insulted him. A blush spread over her cheeks as she stuttered. "Sasuke's too young and too good-looking to have a gray hair! It's only a trick of light!"

"Sixteen isn't that young," Suigetsu remarked with a scowl. "I've had white hair since forever."

Sasuke tried for the umpteenth time to ignore their bickering and instead chose to dwell on Karin's words. His blank eyes searched the dying sunset for an answer. Was it really just a trick of light? Perhaps he was dwelling on the matter too much. Why was it bothering him, anyway? He was only searching for his brother, not for an endless pool of youth. Looks were secondary, if not, last.

He willed the thoughts away desperately.

They were snug and comfortable inside of their own motel rooms minutes later. He shared a room with both Suigetsu and Juugo; Karin had insisted on her own. Sasuke didn't care, as long as she was paying for it.

The Uchiha sat motionlessly on his bed for a while, contemplating. Was he really so vain? Did he really care so much about a single gray hair?

He wasn't even sure if he _had_ the marring feature or not. But why did the mere thought irritate him so?

When he was sure Juugo and Suigetsu had fallen asleep, he stealthily slipped from his bed and into the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a soft _chink._ The foul smell that reached his nose did not hinder his hasty move to the mirror. With his hands braced against the sink, he leaned forwards to stare into the broken mirror.

And stare. And stare. And frown.

It was confirmed. Uchiha Sasuke, sixteen years of age, unblemished body the object of desire to many females (and males alike), had a gray hair.

A gray hair.

Gray hair.

A bitter laugh bubbled from his lips. He sunk slowly to the dirty floor, the laughter dying.

_Why was I so surprised?_ he thought. _I should look like Kakashi by now._

It made sense. Perfect sense.

The gray hair, a symbol of stress. A symbol of all the stress he had been put through. What was he _thinking?_

One of his hands – shaking? when had he started shaking? – ran through his hair and he vaguely wondered how many more strands of gray were hidden between obsidian.

All the stress he had gone through since he was eight. Witnessing his entire family, his entire clan, dead, deceased, lifeless. By the hands of his own brother. He had cried for a day or two, been silent for a week, and then harbored hatred for the rest of his life. At eight, he had only been a child. He shouldn't have gone through what he had. It had been too much.

The cursed seal at twelve.

What an adventure that had been, being bitten by a random (_pedophilic?)_ ninja in the middle of a forest. He had done his best to suppress the pain he was going through. He had told no one about it; Kakashi had found out on his own, and then it was the domino effect from there.

But did he ever tell anyone how much it really hurt him? How much he wanted to take his own kunai to his skin and just hack the thing from his shoulder?

His brother's return.

Orochimaru's infiltration.

His tempting offer.

The Valley of the End.

And then training (_could he call it training?)_ beneath The Snake himself.

Sasuke had endured it all. He had gone through every hardship without a single sound escaping his lips. In silence. No complaints, no whimpers, no problem. The hardships had been backed by his blind grasp for revenge _(look, Father, I am an avenger now)_ and his past stabbing him constantly in both mind and heart.

And not once had he said anything.

He stood up, using the edge of the sink for support, and looked at the reflection staring back at him. He was surprised his hair wasn't falling out with all of the stress he harbored. Three fingers met the familiar lock of hair once more and he singled out the single strand that did not belong.

That gray hair was a miniscule symbol of everything he had faced.

Everything he had endured.

Everything he should've fought over, should've felt over, should've cried over.

He had only been eight years old. He had only been twelve years old. He was only sixteen years old. _Just sixteen._ What was he doing, leading a life like this?

If he could just let down that emotionless mask for a single second, let himself _feel emotions_, let himself stop pretending he didn't care, he could just . . .

"What the _fuck?!"_

Suigetsu shot up in bed, his eyes wide, his blanket pooling at his waist. He exchanged a glance with an equally-alert Juugo and then shot a fleeting glimpse at Sasuke's empty bed. Another loud, resonating shatter was heard. The pieces of whatever had broken fell to a tiled floor, _clickchinkclickchinkclickchink._

Suigetsu tore the blanket from his body, but before his feet could reach the ground, the doorknob of the bathroom rattled. The door opened, its weary hinges creaking in protest, and Sasuke appeared in the doorway.

"What the hell were you doing in there?" demanded Suigetsu.

His eyes trailed over the Uchiha, narrowing suspiciously. Sasuke's fists were barely distinguishable beneath the blood that ran over his knuckles and dripped sickeningly to the floor, _drip, drip, drip. _The white robe he wore and tucked into his pants was flecked with speckles of blood.

Sasuke swept his long bangs from his eyes, smearing a bit of blood onto his forehead.

Very coolly, very calmly, he said, "We've run out of bandages. I'm going to go get some more."

And he left.

Suigetsu was left to stare at Juugo, his expression clearly asking _what the fuck was that?!_ Juugo merely shrugged and pointed to the bathroom before he lay against his pillow once more. Suigetsu turned his head of white to stare.

From the doorway, he could see the shattered remains of the mirror that littered the sink, the ground, _everything_ speckled with drops of blood. Nothing but the frame was left on the splintered cabinet. The faucet was bent at an awkward angle, the imprint of fingers clearly gleaming from the dangling light bulb overhead.

Suigetsu scrunched his face in disgust.

Floating idly in the overflowing, pink-tinged water of the sink was a single strand of hair.

A gray hair.


End file.
